


A Twisted Dream

by bittersweethymns



Series: The World Behind The Mirror [1]
Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies), Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: AU Where TWST's Maleficent is based on her Live Action Version, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Reader Has A Name, Reader Has An Appearance and Personality, Reader of German Descent, Reincarnation, bisexual reader, reader has a backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweethymns/pseuds/bittersweethymns
Summary: A horned woman. A red moon. A glittering, silver sword.The meaning of these visions is lost upon you, a mere waitress barely making ends meet to pay her way through college. Yet still, the mirror came to you. A man's voice called to you from beyond the void, and he beckoned you to take the hand given to you.There's another voice, inside your head. It sounds like yours, yet it is not, and it tells you:“It's time to wake up, Eliana. It's time to go back home to your love.”Eliana Silbermann, just why did the Twisted Wonderland whisk you away, you wondrously ordinary girl? And, why…Why does that strange boy with the horns make your heart ache so terribly?
Relationships: Malleus Draconia/Original Character(s), Malleus Draconia/Reader, Past!Maleficent/Original Character(s), Past!Maleficent/Reader, Slight!Various/Original Character(s), Slight!Various/Reader
Series: The World Behind The Mirror [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716898
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	1. Prologue: Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall...

_“…Who is the fairest of them all?”_

~The Evil Queen, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

* * *

Confusion takes root in your thoughts as you open your eyes to a pitch black void.

…Where the hell is this? If this is a dream, it's one of the most lucid you've ever had.

There is a mirror before you within the darkness, a black mirror lined with an intricate silver frame. A reflection stares back at you, dark brown eyes boring into you from the glass surface as long strands of ash brown hair frame the familiar visage.

The girl in the mirror looks like you, but for some reason you don't see _you_. You see someone else.

“Eliana, do not be afraid…” A reflected mouth speaks your name softly, rosy lips shaping gentle words. “You must come back…”

_An image splits through your mind, a blood red moon within a starry sky basked the world below in crimson moonlight._

_There was a sword in your hands—a sabre, specifically—it's blade forged from pure silver. You held it up, both hands crisscrossing over each other on the intricate handle. The tip of the blade was pressed against your fast-beating heart…_

_And you pushed it in._

_There was a pained scream. You're bleeding, it hurts, you're crying._

_Then, there's someone holding you. A horned woman enveloping you with soft, warm wings._

_She's the most beautiful woman you've ever seen._

_In the space between her elegantly curved horns, you saw that the moon was no longer red, but a pristine white…_

_And you were filled with a bittersweet relief as you felt a smile grace your lips._

“Come back to your love.”

There's a sudden flash of green. The tell-tale roar of an igniting flame causes you to jump back from your sentient reflection, and you merely watch in a dazed trance as the hellfire consumes your counterpart behind the looking glass.

All you can think about is how strangely familiar that fire looks.

Through the crackling flames, the voice of a man resounds throughout the void, foreign footsteps echoing within the nothingness.

“Ahh…” He sighs fondly. “My beloved Lord.”

The tap of a shoe meets your ears sharply.

“A lovely and noble flower of evil…”

Another step greets the void, louder than the last.

“Truly, you are the most beautiful of all.”

Your heart races as another step comes, and you realize their getting progressively closer.

“Mirror, mirror,” _Tap._ “On the wall…”

_Tap._

“Who is the—”

The baritone voice is cut off from your senses as another vision comes to you.

There, surrounded in a dark forest full of decaying trees, is a carriage led by a frightening steed.

There's a sleek, black coffin being carted away towards intricately curved gates.

On the horizon is a great castle, the moon lies overhead casting light upon the magnificent, yet terrible structure.

The clopping steps of a horse and the rickedy roll of carriage wheels fade away as the mirror comes to you once again, green flames still dancing ominously behind it's glassy surface.

The strange man's voice is back once again, and with his words he speaks to you one final sentence.

_**A life-defining choice.** _

“For you, who is guided by the Mirror of Darkness, as long as your heart so desires, take thy hand that lies within.”

The green fire dissipates as a pale hand comes to reach through the mirror. Tauntingly, it beckons you to give it your own.

There's something deep within you—something vague, yet crystal clear at the same time—screaming for you to grab the hand.

It tells you that you've been waiting for this your whole life, and perhaps many other lifetimes before this one.

Here and now may be the only chance you get.

Without hesitation, you step forward and grab the hand through the mirror, feeling long fingers wrap around your own as it pulls you in.

Then, everything bleeds into a pure, blinding white as you are taken into the Twisted Wonderland.


	2. The Stranger's Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, the proverbial Alice who's curiosity caused her to fall down the Rabbit Hole, have awakened within the Twisted Wonderland. Bereft of all possessions and unaware of all your surroundings, you are left at the mercy of the strange creature who has woken you from your slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm bringing this fanfic back from the dead. I was in a bit of a depressive slump lately where I wasn't necessarily proud of anything I wrote, but I'm feeling inspired again and ready to work on this project again. I'm sorry to everyone who has left kudos and bookmarked my work for making you all wait so long.

_“When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one!”_

~Alice, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

* * *

_“Flames that can turn the stars to ashes._

_Ice that can freeze the ends of time._

_Earth that can swallow the heavens above._

_Show no fear to the power of darkness.”_

A roar reverberates through the midnight air, shaking the land as the surrounding ruins tremble under the might of the beast that towers over you.

His coat is as black as night, his fiery mane as blue as the stars, his teeth as sharp as spears.

You look upon the beast in dismay, tears spilling from dark eyes as you utter one word.

A name.

“Grim…”

_“Come now, show me your power._

_For me, for them, for you. We are all running out of time._

_No matter what, do not let go of the hand that binds you here.”_

You open your eyes.

It's… dark. Pitch black. The neighbor's dog probably woke you up far too early once again.

Why do you feel so… stiff? Suffocated, even?

Damn, it feels like your laying on the floor. You must've fallen out of bed...

Interrupting you from your morning reveries is a peculiar sound. It was mere background noise before—distant due to your awakening state—but it's fading in now.

It's the sound of something jostling, similarly to the time in your youth when you tried to pry open your front door in utter desperation, having been accidentally locked out of the house when you came home from school.

 _‘That sound…’_ Hazy thoughts trail into your brain, your waking mind slowly but surely gaining consciousness. _‘What...’_

What the hell is that?

As if to answer your question, a muffled voice speaks through the dark, grating your eardrums in an almost irritating way.

God, what a rude awakening.

“Damn,” The panicked stranger curses. “The others will come soon!”

Others?

“I have to get their uniform, fast…”

Uniform?

 _“Nggggh!”_ More jostling accompanies the strained noise they make, settling more clearly in your ears this time around.

It's loud enough—close enough—to alert you awake, and your situation seems to dawn on you.

Someone's trying to break into your apartment.

Blood rushes through your veins, fear and adrenaline causing you to lift your arm—

_Thump!_

A pained gasp slips passes your lips as the knuckles of your hand ram straight into something solid. Almost like…

You move your arms with as much space as your allowed in the strangely cramped area. Dread starts to spill down into your stomach as your hands feel around, seeing what your eyes cannot.

There's solid walls all around you, like you're in a box. No, you most definitely _are_ in a box.

It's shaped in a very particular way, the solid object accommodating your frame in an uncanny fashion. It's shaped like…

Like—

“This lid is so _heavy._ ” The voice whined above you.

A _lid_...? A box that has a lid and is shaped so perfectly for the human form…

You're…

Your heart feels like it's dropped into your stomach as it all finally _clicks_.

You're in a _coffin_. Oh my god, _you're in a coffin._

You're— You're going to be buried alive! You're—

_…No._

No, no, you have to calm down. If you start hyperventilating, you'll waste what little oxygen you have left. No one will be able to save you if you're dead.

…Or maybe you're just resigning yourself to a slower death.

“If it has come to this…”

 _‘I know my life is worthless...’_ Your hands go to rest upon the lid above you as despair sends your thoughts spiralling. Closing your eyes, tears threaten to fall from you. _‘I know I'm nothing. I know I have nothing to give, but please…’_

“Gonna have to use my last resort!”

_‘Please don't let me die alone like this.’_

“Ngg!” Something feels warm against your palms. “There!”

A hiss escapes you as you snatch your hands away from the coffin lid, the soft skin tissue of your fingers abruptly abused by a sharp, burning sensation tingling away at the sensitive nerves. Smoke invades your lungs, and it's suddenly harder to breath than before.

Daring to open your eyes once again, you can only stare in horror by what you confront.

Scalding, blue flames lick away at the wood above you. They're so close, threatening to do to your flesh as it does to your burial cage. Azure embers wander close, and you wince as they kiss your cheeks, the sensation feeling like a sharp pinch to your skin. Fearfully, you hold your breath, not wanting to draw the fire into your lungs as ashes fall upon you.

You remember having to read _Dante's Inferno_ for a recent college assignment. In the Sixth Circle of Hell, the Heretics were thrown into the flaming tombs of the City of Dis, forever suffering eternal torment with a soul who's immortality they once doubted.

You're not sure if you're a heretic, but there's no doubt in your mind about where you are.

Hell. You're in Hell.

Perhaps you deserve this.

Just as you're ready to consign yourself to eternal hellfire, the flames extinguish themselves, the ashes of the former coffin lid raining down upon your miraculously unscathed self. The shock of it all has you rendered silent as you lay there for a moment...

Then, there's a voice, the one that belonged to your reflected visage in the dark mirror.

_‘It's time to wake up, Eliana.’_

For some reason, a sudden calm sweeps over you at her words. There's a warm feeling in your chest—nostalgic and comforting.

You feel like you've finally returned home after being absent for so many years.

Ever so slowly, you raise yourself up. Closing weary eyes, you tilt your head upwards to savor the feeling of fresh air upon your skin, the generous flow of oxygen circulating in your chest as you breathe it in. To ground yourself, you move your hands to grip the edges of your would-be coffin, and you can't help the small smile that breaks out across your small lips.

You're home...

“Huh, _gyaaa—!!!”_ A startled scream forces you out of your trance, and your eyes snap open to look upon…

_What in the fresh hell is that?_

“You!” The stranger has no fingers to point accusingly at you, but rather a furry, little, grey paw. “Why are you awake already?!”

You… You don't know what…

Right in front of you is… an animal. A small, talking, flame-ridden animal.

He's standing on his hind legs, looking up at you with blue, cat-like eyes, the slits forced into thin little lines by his current state of shock. His tail—currently standing straight up in alert—is strangely shaped, like a little three-pronged pitchfork. A black-and-white striped bow is tied neatly around his neck, the colors of the fabric making for a nice contrast against his most outstanding feature of all: The cerulean flames flaring from his pointy ears like little tufts of fur.

Those are the same flames that burned away your coffin lid.

“A talking…” Your brows furrow as you give him another once-over before taking a wild guess at his origins. “Raccoon?”

He angles his eyes at your incorrect answer. “Raccoon? Raccoon?!” You can only wince as he screeches indignantly at your folly. “No, I am the great and terrible Grim! You would do well to remember that, stupid girl!”

You opt to ignore the grey little furball as he fires off more insults at you, now curious about where exactly you are. Momentarily, you forget how to breathe as you take in your surroundings.

Within this extravagantly dark space—adorned with ornate jewels and pearls hanging from the dome ceiling, archways tracing along the outskirts of the room as gothic, black-curtained windows offered no sunlight, the only light being the vintage, candle-lit, wall lanterns—is an array of _floating coffins_ ; all different sizes, yet their style and shape remained the same.

Right behind the ill-tempered creature was a great mirror. It's glass black, it's frame made of the finest silver.

It is the same mirror that you saw in your dream…

Yes, _your dream_. That's it. That's got to be it. This is all simply a dream.

A ridiculously lucid one at that.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?!” Your head snaps back to the pyromanical creature as he heaves out a frustrated sigh towards your lack of acknowledgement. “Oh well…” His head dropped, dejection clear in his voice before he rose his head once again.

“You, the foolish human girl.” An unamused look settles on your face at his arrogant description of you, and you silently contemplate if punting the so-called Great Grim off your coffin would be considered animal abuse. “Give me those clothes, or else…”

Whiplash struck your nerves as the mood took a sudden turn, shock replacing your indignation as the creature's eyes began to flare as viciously as his flames.

 _“I'll roast you whole!”_ A sharp pulse of heat hits your skin, flames crackling to emphasize his gruesome warning.

Like a deer caught in headlights, all you can do is stare in a stunned silence, confusion causing you to raise a brow at him.

Your clothes? Why the hell does he want your ratty, old clothe—

Oh.

You suddenly become far more aware of the warmth enveloping your body; the soft silk spanning across your skin, running down your arms, and…

Your hands rise to grab onto the fabric-thin rim of a hood around your temple.

...Resting atop your head.

Looking down at yourself, you finally see the robe that dons your form: black as night with golden accents. A purple layer of silk is sewn into the innards of the extravagant piece, the violet fabric patterned with crisscrossing keys. You realize the robe you're wearing is merely just a slip, the belt looped firmly around your waist holding it closed as a dark button-up shirt covers your chest beneath. The short front of your robe allows you to see the matching pair of pants clothing your legs, and upon your feet are a pair of dark, pristine, ankle-high, leather boots.

_…Have you been abducted by a fucking cult in your dream world?_

God, this is horrifying. You better start saving money for a therapist, or at least what little you aren't using to pay your way through college.

You look up from the robe to the fiery rodent before you, who seems to currently be giving you an expectant look.

 _‘Give me those clothes, or else I'll roast you whole!’_ His words echo in your head.

A sly smile forms upon your lips as an idea comes to mind, and the little hellspawn's face begins to shift into confusion at your reaction.

“So, you want my clothes, but you'll turn me to ashes if I don't give them to you?” A teasing lilt resides in your words. “Sounds counterproductive, if you ask me.”

The hellspawn—Grim—frowns at your words, finally realizing his mistake.

“You're not gonna hurt me.” There's confidence in your smirk, pride showing through on your ability to see through his ruse. “You're all talk.”

“I-I-” Grim is reduced to a stuttering mess, agitation swirling in his veins at your words until…

Blue flames flare into existence around the girth of your coffin, not to burn you but entrap you.

 _“Just give me your clothes!”_ He screams angrily, yet a hint of anxiety is prevalent in his tone.

A frown comes to your lips as panic steadily grows in your mind.

 _‘No, no, no!’_ Your thoughts yell frantically. _‘I absolutely can't give him these! I can't! If I do, I'll lose…’_

What? What will you lose? You don't even know, but you're terrified at the prospect.

Desperately, you search for an exit, and your efforts are rewarded with the sight of an ominously dark double door. Ominous it may be, but what lies outside must surely be better than your current predicament.

With your new plan in mind, you flash a devious grin at Grim. “To dream of getting roasted whole by a talking raccoon, how fresh~!”

“I said I'm not a freaking raccoon!”

Sparing him no more time to insult you, you rose to stand in your coffin, the surface shaking unsteadily in it's suspended position above the ground. Grim can only wave his arms helplessly to keep balance as you set a foot on the rim of the coffin, and you push yourself forward.

For a short moment, you're soaring through the air, jumping over a blue wall of flames as you leap from the remains of the floating coffin that once confined you.

You feel… exhilarated. Whether it's from fear or excitement, you're unsure, but you're sure this is the most alive you've felt in a while.

But… Well, it's a strange thought, but is this really _you_ doing all this? Feeling all of this? All of this teasing, this playfulness...

It can't be. You're sure you let this part of yourself die long ago.

Bending your knees, your legs are able to sustain the force of the impact, and your landing is a flawless success.

“Hey human, where do you think you're going?!” Grim yells from behind you. “Get back here!”

You whip your head around to give Grim once last smirk before running towards the double doors, throwing them open as you begin to run aimlessly, no final destination in mind as you run from the grey little beast on your tail.

If he catches you, you're sure this dream will end.

You don't want it to end, especially when you haven't found what you're looking for.

What you lost.

But, what are you looking for? What have you lost? Your mind has just been a flurry of nonsensical thoughts and emotions since this dream began, distant voices and misplaced nostalgia tugging at your heart and haunting your head as if something dead had been brought back to life.

What you see before you matches perfectly to your current state of mind as you run through countless corridors and rooms. It's all nothing but a flurry of colors and meaningless shapes as you search in vain for whatever it is you're looking for.

You're caught up in the feeling of wind rushing through your hair, legs beginning to ache as your robes whip in the air from behind, and for a moment you feel as if you're reminded of something.

A midnight forest full of trees. There's strange wisps of light—almost like fireflies, yet not quite—floating listlessly around you, but you've no time to admire the scenery. You're running, running, running.

The only thing you know in this memory is pure, unbridled fear. You feel like such a coward.

No, you _are_ a coward.

The pain in your lungs manages to bleed your focus back into the present. You're running short of breath, the fatigue slowly sinking into your muscles until it forces you to just…

_Stop._

You aren't sure where the bookcase came from, but all of the reasons, the why's, and the how's seem to escape your mind as you fall to collapse against it, and in that moment you catch your breath. You feel the refreshing chill of the wood sinking into your flesh, and down to your bones as your chest heaves with heavy breaths.

It's a very lucid moment for you—the ache of your body, the walls closing in around you—and you begin to realize, begin to see that maybe, just maybe...

This is _not_ a dream.

Everything seems to hit you like a ton of bricks as the realization sinks in, setting your nerves alight as chaos begins to take reign upon you.

“Oh my god…” A shaky whisper leaves your lips as your knees begin to sink beneath you, whatever spell that had entrapped your mind dissipating with the wind as you steadily come back to your senses. “My god…”

What you are looking for is not lost. No, rather it is you that is lost.

Your hands move to clutch at your wind-tossed hair, tangling the long strands between your fingers as you lay crumpled against the case. You try to stifle the panic, try to hold onto the illusion that this really is just a dream, but reality refuses to release it's hold upon you.

But, where…? Where in reality are you? Why is there a black mirror, and floating coffins, and flaming hellcats, and voices in your head, and memories that are not memories, why, why, why—

A cold sweat breaches your skin as you furrow your brows, your left hand rising up to tug at the parted bangs resting against your forehead. You swear you can feel a headache coming up.

 _‘Where is she?’_ You ask to yourself.

Tears of frustration begin to gather in your eyes, and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out.

 _‘Who the hell is she?’_ You ask in return, yet there's no answer.

Is that who you're looking for? A woman…? But…

None of this is making any sense.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you let go of the short strands of hair in your grasp. Your head falls with a thunk against the wood as you close your eyes, desperately trying to gather yourself.

You _must_ gather yourself. You will not survive if you do not adapt.

You breathe in. Then you breath out. In and out, in and out, and you do this until your certain all the frustration, the confusion, the _fear_ has been chased away; until you don't feel like screaming at the top of your lungs anymore.

Really, it only partially works. There's an anxious tingling to your nerves that you simply can't chase away, but this has to be good enough right now. Dream or not, you're the only person you have right now. If you lose yourself to hysteria, you're done for.

Besides, you _know_ you can do this, because you _have_ to do this.

Like always, you're left again with no choice of the circumstances.

Opening your eyes, you look up from where you're sitting on the ground, and you're absolutely sure you're going to puke. Yet again, there's more floating objects, books this time, all above you. The only light within this… you suppose it's a library… are the dim green lights from the various light fixtures bolted onto wooden support beams, and hanging from the ceiling high above.

“…Okay, Eli.” With no one here to comfort you, you settle doing it for yourself. “It's going to be okay. Just get up. You're not going to get anywhere by crying on the floor.”

It's a struggle to rise to your feet. Anxiety has turned you jittery and weak to an extent. There isn't any butterflies flying inside in your stomach, no it's centipedes crawling around through your guts as they skitter with hundreds of legs.

Despite all this, you manage to stand once more with the trusty support of the bookcase by your side. You take in another deep breath as you lean against it—shaky and apprehensive—and somehow you manage to steel your nerves enough to walk out to the center of the aisle.

That cat-raccoon-thing, Grim… You need to find help before he finds—

A flash of blue flames appear around you.

“Did you think you could run away from me?!” Yells a scrawny, grating voice.

_Shit._

You spin around in the direction of the fiery creature, fear evident on your features at you hold your lower lip between your teeth, tucking your hands against your chest defensively.

“Please don't hurt me, Grim.” The plea leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

For a moment, the creature comes to a halt. There's something in the way you speak his name that is tugging at his chest, a strange mixture of pity and… something else… forming the frown on his muzzle before he shakes himself free of the feeling.

“Th-That's right, you lowly human!” Though it was all a bluff, his flames began to flare once again, body shifting into a hunching position like a cat ready to spring at a cornered mouse. “Now, if you don't wanna be roasted whole, gimme those clo—”

The sound of something sailing through the air travels across the wind to meet your ears, and a loud, resonating _crack_ sounds throughout the library.

 _“Fugya!”_ Grim cries in pain, and your heart would have ached at the sound if you weren't currently registering the shock. “It hurts! What's this string?!”

“It is not string. It is the Whip of Love!” Speaks a voice behind you.

That… that voice is the same as the one that beckoned you through the mirror.

You turn around, looking up to come face-to-face with the man from the void, and you are not quite prepared for what you see.

You are met by a crow-like mask, two golden pinpoints staring back at you from it's abyssal eyeholes. A top hat shadows what little is visible of his face, strands of dark wavy hair peeking out from under the rim, and beneath those short tresses poke out something odd: a pair of elvish ears, and they look _real._ Nothing prosthetic about them.

A greatcoat is draped around his broad shoulders, thick blackbird feathers curling out from beneath the blue high collar. The underside of his coat is the same royal blue, and it's ends look to have been cut in a fashion that resemble the shape of wings.

Around each finger of his black-gloved hands is a golden ring, forged to appear as sharp talons, glinting menacingly with what little light the library has to offer. One of his taloned hands holds a key-shaped staff, fingers curled around a golden handle shaped in the likeness of a raven's head. The other however, holds the so-called Whip of Love, the disciplinary weapon held betwixt his fingers with a firm grip.

Upon his hips, you see three strangely shaped accessories—their sillouettes reminding you of the mirror that took you here—with four more key-shaped objects hanging from them. You spotted another mirror-like broach on his person a few seconds earlier, pinned to the side of his hat on the cerulean ribbon.

Frightened by the man's strange appearance, you take a timid step away, heart beating in your ears due to the unwary aura that wavers from your outlandish savior.

Keys, crows, and mirrors. What an odd mixture of aesthetics, though it brings to mind tales from your childhood that your mother told you—the mirror of Snow White's Evil Queen, the raven of Sleeping Beauty's Dark Fairy.

Just where have you gone off to?

“Aah, I finally found—” His words come to a halt as he takes in your appearance. “…Oh dear, that's quite strange.”

Strange? Is he calling _you_ strange? What about him?

“It's not that we don't receive a lot of effeminate young men around here, but…” He pauses, tilting his head curiously at your appearance. “You're a young lady, are you not? Why, we haven't had a young miss here since…”

His words trail off, yellow orbs disappear as his eyes close in thought, a small frown appearing on pale lips as he remembers bygone days.

“…Well, it is of no matter. While this is certainly a surprise, I believe we have more important matters to discuss, and very little time to do so.” He opens his eyes once more to stare at you intently. “You _are_ one of this year's new students, yes?”

Finally, this is your chance to ask for help! “Actually, I-”

“You shouldn't do things like that. Leaving the Gate on your own!” You frown as the strange man begins to lecture you on your apparent lack of etiquette. You're almost sure that the feathers adorning his coat are about to become ruffled to signify his displeasure. “Not only that, but you have yet to tame your familiar which has broken a number of school rules.” He points a golden talon towards your so-called familiar as he informs you of this, the poor creature currently wrapped within the whip's embrace.

“Let me go!” Grim looks up towards the man, fury sparking in his eyes. “I'm not her friggin' familiar!”

“Sure, sure. All the rebellious ones say that. Just be quiet for now, alright?” Black-tinted lips shush the small beast as if he were just an unruly child in need of reprimanding, chasing away any further protests of familiarship from Grim. Without any fear, the strange man simply reaches down to tuck Grim within the hold of his arms, clasping a gloved hand over the fiery being's mouth.

“Mmmgh, mmph!” You frown at the sound of Grim's muffled words, silently hoping that this truly wasn't how everyone in this strange world dealt with rebellious familiars.

“My goodness, it's unprecedented for a new student to leave the Gate on their own.” He shakes his head towards you with a sigh. “Just how impatient can you be?”

Your frown subtly deepens at his sigh and his following question. You feel a shock of rage rush through your nerves, the embers of wrath steadily being fanned into a flaming inferno. You're tired, you're confused, you're lost, and this guy's blatant disregard for anything you have to say is starting to piss you off.

 _‘Oh, you're about to find out real soon…’_ You promise quietly as you stare up at him in cold silence.

He merely begins to step past you, either not noticing your uneasy aura or simply not caring. “Come, come. The entrance ceremony has already begun. We must meet with your peers in the Mirror Chamber.”

Your rising anger is suddenly stamped out by another wave of confusion. “Ceremony?”

The strange, crowish man stops in his tracks, pausing for a moment before turning towards you once more.

“Why yes, the Welcoming Ceremony, of course.” He tells you as if it's something you should've already known. “It's being held in the room where you wandered out from. The room with the doors. All students must pass through one of those doors to arrive here. Normally, students only awaken after the doors are opened with a special key, however you…”

As he rambles on, you only grow more confused. Doors? The only doors you saw were the ones you ran out from, unless…

You looked down towards your hands, powdery black ash still coated on your skin.

“Doors…” Coffins had doors. Well, more like tops, but still. “Are you speaking about the coffins? The fire must've blown the lid off…”

“So in the end, the culprit appears to be this familiar.” The man concludes, taking notice of your ash-covered hands. “If you're going to bring it with you, then you must take responsibility and properly care for it.”

“But, he's not my…” The protest dies on your lips as you watch the man pull out a pocketwatch from his dress pants, a gasp coming out from him.

“…Oh my!” He exclaims. “Now isn't the time to be long-winded. The entrance ceremony will soon come to a close. Let's get a move on.”

“Wait, just a second!” Uncertainty and irritation mingle together in your words, and you somehow miraculously stop the birdman from taking flight once more “I don't even know where I am!”

He tilts his head at you once more, seemingly confused by your words. “What's this? Are you still dazed?” He walks towards you, and before you can step away he bends down to your level, holding out the back of his hand to rest it against your forehead.

What the hell? Is he checking you for a fever? How is he even going to be able to tell with those gloves on?

A hum rises from his throat. “The teleportation magic appears to have left you disoriented…” He stands up straight once more, rising back to his full height. “Well it is fine. It happens often enough.”

You raise a brow at that. _Often enough?_ Isn't there any kind of magical safety measures put in place?

The man smiles down at you, though the kind gesture feels irritatingly condescending. “I shall give you an explanation as we make our way there, for I am gracious.”

A huff of air passes your lips at you quietly express your cynicism towards his graciousness, but you silence any smart quips you may have. He's offering an explanation, and an explanation is better than nothing.

You slump your shoulders in defeat, acquiescing to his offer. “Alright…”

“Excellent! Very good,” The hand holding his staff lightly presses against your back, nudging you forward towards the library's exit. “Right this way then, young lady.”

Herded like a sheep, you walk past all the halls you ran through minutes before in your feverish panic. Grim still has some fight in him left, wriggling around every now and then, but it's all in vain as the man continues to hold him firmly beneath his arm—not even batting an eye at Grim's futile struggling.

As you are guided through this labyrinth of a building, you notice a specific detail you obviously missed on your first time passing through, and that is the multitude of oil paintings hanging from the towering walls—their canvases painted with places and figures that bear no recognition to you. Some of the subjects possess the ears of animals, others bearing the same elvish ears of your strange acquaintance, and there are those who were clearly nobility with their fanciful clothing and powdered wigs. There are places that could not possibly exist in your own world: vistas of thorn-covered forests, kingdoms built upon the vast floors of the ocean, nonsensical psychedelic landscapes filled with overgrown mushrooms and labyrinthine hedge mazes.

It entrances you at first, your eyes staring upon the paintings with wonder and curiosity, but you begin to notice something else.

While you are looking at them, they are also looking back at _you._ Their eyes move to follow your passing presence as you walk by—some of them blinking, some of them glaring, some regarding you with the same brand of curiosity as your own.

There's a coldness that begins to bloom in your chest, wonderment lost as fear begins to take hold once more, and you find yourself stepping closer to the man beside you—not caring whether he notices or not.

A cough breaks the still silence, causing a jolt to run through you. You look up towards your crow-like acquaintance, a sigh of relief leaving you as you realize he was the one who made the noise and not one of the many paintings.

“You needn't be frightened, my dear,” The man assures you, seeming to have noticed your discomfort. “Those paintings are portraits of previous professors and great magicians long passed. They now reside in those paintings to keep vigil of the students here in Night Raven College.”

Your eyes light up at the information you've been given. “Night Raven College? That's where I am?” It isn't much, but at least you can possibly pinpoint your location on a map now.

You pause alongside the man as he stops in front of a set of double doors. He opens them, moonlight spilling in through the exit as you both slip outside onto the college's courtyard with Grim in tow.

“Precisely,” He answers your question as you both walk down one of the four stone pathways, pausing before a curious stone well settled at the center of the courtyard. “Those who are blessed with a unique aptitude for magic are gathered from all over the world, courgeously invited here to attend the most prestigious magic academy in all of Twisted Wonderland.”

He smiles down at you once more, one of his hands rising to splay against his chest as he holds his chin high in a prideful manner, his unattended staff left to levitate in midair as he performs this grand gesture.

“My name is Dire Crowley, and I am the headmaster of this esteemed college, appointed by the board chairmen to undertake this honor.”

Your eyes widen at that, dark irises absorbing the moon's light from above. “The headmaster…” A troubled frown spreads upon your lips, and you look towards the ground in contemplation. “So, you're saying I've been _invited_ here? But that can't be right…”

The headmaster merely shakes his head at you. “The Dark Mirror makes no mistakes. It only chooses those who are worthy. Chosen ones are then placed into Gates, and are thereby summoned here to Night Raven College.”

Crossing your arms over yourself, you bring a fisted hand to your mouth, pressing the knuckles to your lips as a pensive stare takes hold of your features.

The Dark Mirror chose you because you're worthy? No, this definitely must be some kind of mistake. You're not worthy.

_You're not anything._

“An Ebony Carriage carrying a Gate should have gone to meet you as well,” He continues.

Ebony Carriage? Could he mean what you saw in your dream?

“I remember passing through a dark forest and being led down the path by a terrifying steed, but I thought I was only dreaming. Is this what you're talking about?”

Headmaster Crowley nods at your question, the bird beak of his mask bobbing with the movement. “The Ebony Carriage goes to welcome new students chosen by the mirror. They are special carriages responsible for carrying the doors to the academy. The market decided long ago that carriages are used to welcome people on special days.”

“M-Market?” You gasp out. What market? There's a market for stealing people away to fairy tale land? “So you're saying that carriage just brought me here on it's own!?”

“Mmmph! Mmmph!” Grim interrupts your conversation, reminding you of his presence as he wriggles beneath Crowley's grip.

Crowley grabs ahold of his staff once more, his coat swishing behind him as he turns his back to you, leading the way once more.

“Come, let's go to the entrance ceremony.”

For a moment, you merely blink vacantly as Dire Crowley takes a few steps ahead of you, the surreal nature of your situation finally hitting you causes a lost look to cloud within your eyes. Questions rise from the foreground of your mind once again, yet a single one stands out from the rest.

_‘Why am I here?’_

And yet, there is no answer—not even from the mysterious hitchhiker between the cracks of your conciousness—and you are left on your own to follow after the eccentric headmaster of Night Raven College.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! Feedback is always appreciated here. I would really like to hear your thoughts on the story so far. If you saw any typos, feel free to inform me in the comments as well!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and criticism are absolutely welcome! Grammar Nazis, I implore you, please inform of any typos I may have missed. This is, unfortunately, not being beta read.
> 
> Also, I'll be dropping hints later on, but Eliana is loosely based off of one of the Brothers Grimm stories.
> 
> Will you be able to find out which one? Keep an eye out for hints, readers.


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